


Teal’c’s Day Out

by sg_wonderland



Series: Days series [10]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 12:48:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8162539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: Teal’c bonds with the new Daniel





	

“Teal’c! Finally!” The childish voice pronounces with uncontained impatience.

It has taken much discipline and meditation, but I am now able to face the child without flinching. “Daniel Jackson.” I favor him with the bow his present state does not understand and never fails to question. I, however, can never forget that because of my failure to protect him, a cherub now perches on the top of O’Neill’s desk instead of a man grown. A cherub who scrambles to his feet and without hesitation, reaches his hands out, seeing not the fearsome First Prime of Apophis, but a friend. “Why are you seated on O’Neill’s desk?”

“Because Jack told me to stay right here.” A tiny finger pokes the desk surface. “He thought I’d stay out of trouble up here.” The presence of the SF standing stiffly on the other side of the door begins to make more sense. “But I have to go pee. Now!” He pronounces with a scowl that in other circumstances might be termed as cute.

I grasp him, his hands clutch my shoulders. “Why, then, did you not alight from the desk?” 

“Because Jack told me..”

“To stay there. I now see your predicament.”

“Good.” He answers swiftly. “So can we go pee now?”

I take his tiny hand in mine. “Let us proceed to the facility in all haste.”

He giggles. “You’re so funny, Teal’c.”

*

I am greatly relieved that Daniel Jackson pronounces himself capable of attending his needs without assistance, although I find myself aiding him in washing his hands afterwards. “You’d think they could have sinks for kids.” He comments as I set him once again on his feet.

“Perhaps when the base was constructed, the architect was not taking children into consideration?” He easily passes under my arm as I hold the door for him to exit.

“There are lots of places that don’t take children into consideration.” He sniffs acerbically, sounding very much like his old self. “Where to now?”

“We will now proceed to the parking structure to retrieve O’Neill’s vehicle.” O’Neill and I have exchanged vehicle keys since my own does not contain the necessary accouterments to transport a child; we have all learned our lessons from Major Carter’s unfortunate accident while doing so previously.

“So Jack’s gonna be late?” Daniel Jackson’s natural gait seems to have been replaced by that of a rabbit.

“Extremely. He has charged me with procuring your dinner and transporting you to your home. If that is agreeable to you.” 

The child stops and turns serious eyes to mine. I fight not to visibly show fear. The Tau’ri have a saying about the eyes being the window to the soul and I have found that to be especially true of Daniel Jackson. Even in this form, there are times I believe he sees through any facade I may be projecting. “Of course it’s okay, Teal’c. We’re friends, right?”

“Of this there is no question. Now, to what dining establishment shall we proceed?”

Those eyes now become almost sly. “Jack said we could go anywhere?”

“I do not recall O’Neill placing a limit upon your dining location.” Although perhaps he should have done so.

“Can we have a picnic?” The innocent look has now returned.

I stop to gauge the conditions as we arrive at the entrance; there is a chilly mist currently falling. “Unfortunately, I believe the weather is not temperate enough to dine alfresco, Daniel Jackson.” His face falls and I steel myself for a tantrum. Truthfully, I have yet to see the child exhibit this behavior but on trips to O’Neill’s dreaded mall, I have witnessed several incidents which should have resulted in an immediate punishment of other patron’s offspring. “Is there a specific cuisine you would like to enjoy tonight?”

Biting his lip, he thinks as we enter O’Neill’s vehicle. I test the safety of his placement in the back of the vehicle before inserting myself into the driver’s position. “How about Mexican?” He finally asks. 

I eye him through the rear-view mirror, trying to gauge his expression. His former self would have known I have an expressed affinity for this particular cuisine. “Mexican is acceptable.”

He suddenly grins. “But you can’t have a margarita because you’re driving.”

My lips twitch despite my attempts to steady them. “I will attempt to live with my disappointment.” His answer is a barely smothered laugh. 

*

The dining experience is without incident. Daniel Jackson orders in what I can only assume is fluent Spanish, if the owners’ reaction is any indication. Several members of the staff tarry at our table and converse with the child. As I settle the bill, we are given a dessert to consume at home. “Daniel Jackson, I do not recall requesting fried ice cream.”

“Come on, Teal’c. We can eat it in the living room and pretend it’s a picnic.” I should not have assumed he had forgotten his earlier disappointment at the lack of outside dining.

“Then we should proceed immediately in order to prevent an unfortunate melting of this delicacy.”

*

Before joining the Tau’ri, I had never experienced this habit of two persons sharing a plate. However, Daniel Jackson instructs me to obtain two utensils from the kitchen so that we may share the dessert. I retrieve two spoons before returning to the living room, where I indulge a personal weakness of mine and ignite a fire in O’Neill’s fireplace. Seating myself across from Daniel Jackson on the opposite side of the low table, I hand him a utensil and prepare our dessert for consumption. He digs in with enthusiasm. “Daniel Jackson, perhaps you can explain to me how this dish is accomplished.”

“The ice cream is frozen very hard and fried very rapidly at very high temperature so it doesn’t have time to melt.” 

“That does not seem possible.”

“Sam can explain the physics better than I can. I just know it works.” We eat in silence for several minutes and I am on the verge of forbidding him to consume any more when he drops his spoon and lies back on the floor. “Done.” He pronounces with a grimace.

“I hope you have not made yourself ill through over consumption of food?”

He quirks an eyebrow at me. “Unlike Jack, I know when to quit.”

I look at the rapidly melting dessert. “As do I. Shall I place the remainder in the freezer?”

“Probably.”

I retrieve the detritus of our treat and deposit the spoons in the sink and the dessert in its original container before storing it in the freezer. “Will you inform O’Neill of the presence of the dessert in his freezer?”

Daniel Jackson rolls over with a groan. “Are you kidding? Jack’ll smell it from the driveway.”

I nod; I have, in fact, seen O’Neill attack ice cream previously. Not a pleasant sight, I must agree. “What is your appointed time to retire?”

“Um.” His eyes shift away from mine. “I don’t really have a bedtime. Really.”

“Daniel Jackson. I advise that you do not attempt to prevaricate. I will not hesitate to contact O’Neill for confirmation.” It has been my experience that a subtle, well-placed threat often works as well as a battle.

“Eight o’clock,” he admits reluctantly.

“I see that you have over an hour of free time before you should retire. How do you wish to fill this time?”

“Well,” his voice makes the word seem several syllables long. 

“Perhaps I should have inquired about how you and O’Neill usually spend your evenings?”

“I usually take a bath and then Jack reads to me in bed.”

“Then that is what we will do. I look to you to assist in the proper procedure.”

*

Although I am uncertain of how the inclusion of liquid bubbles can aid in the ritual cleaning of small children, I can recognize the fact that keeping the child in the bathwater as long as possible can only increase the efficacy of the practice. I may, however, have erred in the correct amount of bubbles needed in this mission. Consequently, it takes much longer than I originally anticipated since after aiding Daniel Jackson in bathing, rinsing off excess bubbles and donning night attire, I am now forced to allow the child to proceed to his room alone while I attempt to set this room to rights. 

“Daniel Jackson.” He looks up from a book he has propped up on his knees. “Does your nightly ritual always result in such a cleaning effort?”

“No.” His eyes flash in amusement over his glasses. I suspect, although I will never admit this, that I have been taken in by one very small young boy.

“Hmm,” I comment as I sit beside him on the bed. “Do you have a book you wish me to read to you?” The fact that I can read at all is entirely due to Daniel Jackson. He reluctantly relinquishes the book and I turn it over to peruse the title. I am unsurprised not to find the cover decorated with colorful cartoon characters. Instead, this looks suspiciously like a school textbook. It is, in fact, a book to teach the speaking of Mandarin Chinese. “Daniel Jackson, I do not believe this is the type of book O’Neill regularly uses to lull you to sleep.” 

I rise to examine the shelves and locate another book I believe more suited to the task. Seating myself beside him on the bed, I proceed to begin the improbable story of a small boy, a talking bear and their friends who apparently live in complete harmony in a very large wooded area. Daniel Jackson stops me several times to ask my opinion of the book; I have, over the years, grown accustomed to his habit of critiquing all forms of literature. 

The room grows silent except for the sound of my voice, which I deliberately lower as I have seen O’Neill do. I cease to read when I feel a small head pressed against my side. Daniel Jackson is asleep. Cautiously, I rise, holding his head to gently remove his glasses before lowering him to rest comfortably on his pillow, settle his covers over his shoulders. Since there is no one here to question my action, I lean over and kiss his forehead. “May all your dreams bring you joy, Daniel Jackson.” I extinguish the light but leave the door ajar so that I may hear if he wakes.

Once downstairs, I make myself comfortable in O’Neill’s favorite chair and pick up a book left on the table, wondering what O’Neill has been reading. Seeing the title to be a brief history of Mayan civilization, I theorize this book was not left by O’Neill but by a person of somewhat shorter stature. Underneath this tome, lies a Spider man comic book; obviously, the two have been reading together.

Although I was at first reluctant to come to O’Neill’s aid in today’s situation with Daniel Jackson, I am now appreciative of this opportunity. Major Carter and I do not spend as much time with Daniel Jackson as we once did and I have to question my reasons. O’Neill would not object if either of us asked to take the child to our home for an extended amount of time. 

For myself, I can only plead extreme guilt over my contribution to the current situation. However, Daniel Jackson does not assign blame. After his initial difficulties, he seems to have settled comfortably to his new life. It is the rest of SG-1 who have struggled. No, this is not completely truthful; O’Neill has now followed Daniel Jackson down the path of adjustment. 

I am still contemplating this when I hear the sound of O’Neill’s key in the door. He disposes of his coat, his keys and his briefcase before descending the steps. “Hey, T, the kid in bed?”

“Daniel Jackson has been fed, bathed, read to and is currently asleep.” I rise and prepare to depart.

“Thanks, Teal’c, I owe you one.”

“On the contrary, O’Neill, it is I who owe you one. It was an honor to attend Daniel Jackson this evening.”

He eyes me suspiciously. “Let me guess, he was a little monster tonight?”

“Daniel Jackson behaved perfectly tonight, both at home and in public. His manners were, as always, impeccable.” 

“And for this you’re thanking me?” It is clear that I have confused him.

Barely suppressing a smile, I open the door. “May you have a good night, O’Neill. If you are hungry, you will find the remains of a frozen dessert in your freezer.” His eyes light up as he hurries toward the kitchen. “Please extend my thanks to Daniel Jackson for a delightful evening.”

I suspect there is a smile on my face as I drive back to the base.


End file.
